She continues speaking about mom and dad, about the Air Force, about our new life here, about my new life. It’s the same old thing. I’m tired of hearing it again. We’ve been here for over a year now. Repeating it over and over doesn’t make it better. I get angry and I almost speak out, but I keep it in. It’s not her fault. It’s my life. It’s my problem. I have to deal with it.
I think she understands. She gets up, walks to the other room and returns with a blanket and a pillow. She puts the blanket over me and rubs my head again, like a stray puppy. I feel ashamed to admit that it felt good. It felt good to know somebody still cared that I was here.
She exits the living room and it suddenly feels empty. Finally, silence. I close my eyes. I quickly fall asleep.
VIII
It’s morning. The smell of something burning wakes me up in a fright. I have a sudden flashback of something I’ve been trying to forget, but I quickly suppress it and it goes away. It’s breakfast. She made it. Katya is an angel. I hope she meets the right guy, she deserves it. Maybe I hope she doesn’t. Maybe I want to be the only man in her life. Have someone who still needs me.
I keep still. Looking out the window, blinding myself with the morning’s first light rays. I know I need to move, but I can’t find the energy.
Soon Katya walks in. She brings a plate with a toast and a boiled egg. Not much, but still better than what I’m used to having lately. She puts it down in front of me, as well as a cup of coffee. The coffee is steaming hot. I can see little strips of vapour dancing above it.
Her voice ignites my ears. I finally hear the busy street outside; the cars, the people, Katya… wait. What did she say? She says it again. Shit! I’m supposed to work today! I have to be at my post in less than an hour, and I’m still two hours away from Wünsdorf!
I jump from the couch. I grab the boiled egg and devour it in two bites. I grab the slice of toast and begin to put my boots on. She continues speaking to me. She wasn’t expecting this sort of reaction from me. I sense disappointment in her posture. She asks me to take it easy. As soon as my boots are on, I pull her towards me and hug her. I make it last. I know she will like that. She does. She keeps silent. I make an awkward half-attempt to kiss her head. It’s enough for her. More than enough. She smiles, but I can’t tell if it’s real. I don’t have time to find out.
I run downstairs and dash out into the street. Fuck, it’s cold. Why is it still cold?
After running a few blocks down and dodging cars, I find a U-Bahn station. It’s so bright in this neighbourhood. I jump on the subway and hope I don’t get into any trouble. It’s the safer choice.
When I reach the train station, I sprint to the platform and barely jump on the train in time. I got lucky I guess, but not lucky enough. I’m still going to be extremely late. I’m sure my students will be fine without me, but tardiness is not kindly looked upon by my superiors. Seems like in the end I took my mother’s steps and found a calling in teaching. However, unlike her, I hate my job. I hate the repetitiveness, the meaningless social encounters with the rest of the staff, and the sense that all those I teach will reach further than I ever have.
I should have called the office from my sister’s house. Made up some excuse to explain why I’m not even in town. Too late now. I’ll have to deal with it when I arrive.
My heart is still beating agitatedly during the first half hour of the train ride, but I finally let the scenery outside the window soothe me. I think of my new life. How much things have changed. Only a few months ago I was ready to be shot into space. Now I’m living in a completely different country, working as a military flight instructor at a town in the middle of nowhere.
I do wish I could have stayed closer to Berlin. Not because it’d be near my sister, although that should be my first instinct, but because I’d actually feel closer to my father. Although he is dead, I still feel his presence every time I set foot in the city. Maybe I’m just becoming melancholic. I guess it comes with age. At the very least, Wünsdorf is buzzing with comrades. In fact, it’s the largest Soviet Military Camp outside of Russia. Passing by the statue of Lenin every morning makes me feels a little closer to home. I have spent most of my modern life in military bases. Maybe I wouldn’t fit in the city after all.
It’s only when the train finally arrives that I realize I need to go back home and change. It doesn’t take me long to reach the military base. Having an apartment only meters away from work actually turned out to be very convenient.
I unlock the main door to the building and run up the stairs, two steps at a time. I reach my apartment door and stop in my tracks.
The door is partially open. Did I leave the door open? How could I be so stupid? I couldn’t have.
I cautiously enter my apartment. My heart jumps when I find a young officer sitting on my armchair. He stands up in a rush, as if I had caught him doing something he shouldn’t. I don’t recognize him. I ask him who he is. He speaks, but does not answer my question. Instead he hands me a letter.
The bile in my stomach burns and I taste this morning’s coffee in my mouth. I grab the letter, the young officer bows and exits my apartment.
I open the letter and the first thing I read is the signature: Heinz Kessler, deputy minister of defence. Fuck. I had heard about Herr Kessler. He was a fierce German supporter of the communist party. He was first assigned to the Wehrmacht, the nazi air force, but then defected to the Soviets in 1940, with whom he fought till the end of the war. Now he was deputy minister. Our leaders truly know how to reward their most loyal members. It’s therefore strange that I still had to feel ashamed of my father. According to my mother, he was a defector, just like Herr Kessler, but we were never allowed to speak of it.
I’m afraid to read the rest of the letter. But the text is surprisingly short and I can’t help but read it. I must make my way to his office immediately.
I blew it. Again, I blew it. But why are my hands shaking? It just seems like an excessive measure. Are they planning something worse than getting fired? I haven’t given them reasons for harsh treatment. Then again, that hasn’t always been necessary. Was my father’s nationality going to emerge again? That has always been my first thought when I was about to get into trouble. Relax. Just take a breath. Follow your orders. Do your best to defend your stand and let fate take its course.
I quickly change into my military uniform and make my way to the address detailed on the letter. It’s hard to step into the building. My chest hurts as soon as my foot walks through the main door. I feel like everyone is looking at me. I feel like everyone knows I’m getting fired. It’s ridiculous, I know. It’s just my imagination.
Someone grabs my arm. My instinct is to pull away, but I remember that I am in a safe place. Am I? I turn around. It’s a man wearing a high-ranking uniform. I’ve never seen him before. He asks for my name. I state it fully. He then continues in Russian. Strange. He’s wearing an East German uniform. He doesn’t look Russian. He doesn’t sound Russian either.
He asks me to follow him. I am hesitant. I have a bad feeling about this. We reach a meeting room and there I find Herr Kessler. He’s busy talking with other people. I salute him. He acknowledges me. I try to apologize for my misconduct and skipping work today. He interrupts me and tells me I am not needed here any longer. Did I just get fired? It feels worse than that. He tells me to go with the man who has brought me to this room. With that, our encounter is over. Herr Kessler continues speaking to the other men in the room.